


Broken Hearts and Mended Souls

by CheshireSmile



Series: What Are You Looking For? [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Mute Frisk, Nonbinary Frisk, POV Multiple, at least a bit ahaha, brief implication of suicide attempt, character exploration, i tried to make it flow as seamlessly as i could
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireSmile/pseuds/CheshireSmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His eyes seem duller than before. Hazier. Clouded over by a fog of some long forgotten thought that he had pushed back into that secluded part of himself. You know he will never tell you what he is thinking of, and maybe, a part of you is relieved to know this."</p><p>* </p><p>Frisk, in the end, doesn't really know either of them. They would like to change that, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tell me your story

**Author's Note:**

> my first multi-chaptered fic in a while. uhhh i was originally going to post two chapters the first day but i kinda just wanna put this out immediately? and i wont have time to finish the second one until later so. i dunno if you think its interesting i'd appreciate some feedback!

A flickering flame waves you off from the table. It brightens up the dimly lit room marginally, showing off the silk purple tablecloths and the sparing cutlery. The chair is too low for you, and in tandem with the shaggy brown bangs that flick across your eyelashes, you have trouble catching the figure of your friend leaving the dining hall. When you shove your chair back and look around, you realize he is gone. Dissolved into the back wall of the restaurant without so much of a trace. What’s left is a timid looking creature, huddled beside a potted plant. This monster is unable to give you a straight answer on the whereabouts of your friend, but drifts off-topic into why he is snuggled up in the back of the room.

You tug a bit on your cowboy hat, pushing even more of your hair in front of your eyes, as you leave the restaurant.

You squint, struggling to keep at least a bit of extra light from your vision just so you have a chance to adjust to the shift. The contrast between the two sections of the hotel is astounding. The lounge is bright, practically glowing with livelihood and an up-beat personality, even if it may be a bit forced. It is, at the very least, a welcome change from the depressing atmosphere of the previous room: anxiety-ridden and tired people, lamenting about the troubles in their life, with a sobering piano gently weeping its notes out. You find yourself pausing, lingering on the conversation that you had only minutes ago.

_“and this woman, i don’t even know her name.”_

You realize that, perhaps, you only know her name. Her name is Toriel. She wishes to be a teacher. She likes snails. She has been in that place for a long, long time.  
She has still found a way to help you even through all the miles you’ve walked. 

Fumbling with the sleeves of your sweater, you steal a glance at the glass doorway at the front of the hotel.   
The two people who have helped you the most, may be the ones you know the least about.

Gripping the frying pan in your hand tightly, you walk out into the sweltering heat of Hotland once again, and prepare to journey back towards an old friendly town.

* * *

You keep your hands bundled up in your sleeves, shuddering slightly against the cold breeze that perpetually breathes through the town. Some of the snow flies up and smacks your cheeks red. You can feel the tip of your nose burning as well. Regardless, you trudge forward, stopping by the humble house that your two skeleton friends share. Papyrus loiters near the front, talking loudly with Undyne about tactical strategies, which are only momentarily interrupted by her chiming in bluntly about how cold she is. You are a bit too focused to greet them, but you have a feeling you will not be leaving the town for quite a while.

The door creaks open, and you try as gently as you can to shut it. Papyrus and Undyne’s boisterous voices drone out the sound of movement effortlessly. A wave of relief washes over you as the wind is finally blocked out completely, leaving only the warmth of the wooden house to engulf you in its embrace.

“hey, kid, what’re you doing inside? the real fun people are outside.”

You turn your head and look around, catching the sight of Sans sprawled on the couch, skull resting on the armrest with his slight signature grin. His arms dangle lifelessly off the sides, one by his head and the other swaying off the edge. He gives you a wink, noting the bit of surprise that peppers your features. 

“that expression, heh, that’s the one of someone who didn’t expect to find me so quickly, huh? guess that means something's on your mind. well, you better spit it out quick, or i might just fall asleep on you.” 

You puff out your cheeks a bit, walking stiffly towards him with a bit of stomp to your step. It seems he is only easy to find in order to subvert your expectations. In a world full of oddities, he still stands out amongst the crowd.

You shake your hands a bit, flicking the sleeves that covered your fingers down until they hit your arm. Pausing for a moment, you collect what you want to say before you begin it. You make sure to sign slowly so Sans can catch it all. He doesn’t have an easy time reading fast.

_What do you know about the lady behind the door?_

“shouldn’t i be the one askin’ you that? i mean you must have met her, right? or else she just told me to look after a theoretical kid right before one happened to coincidentally walk out that door.”

He shifts his weight a bit, putting the weight of his skull on his hands as his elbows dig into the cushions of the couch. There is no change in vibe to his grin, but if you looked hard enough, something about it felt softer than before.  
Gently, you raise a balled up hand to the side of your head, beginning to slowly drift it towards your chin as your thumb peaks out from the cage of your fingers. Before anything other than the word “lady” is laid out, a sudden cold sensation tickles at your wrist. Coarse, scrawny fingers caught it mid-movement, leaving no mark or trace of hurt in its wake, but firm enough to stop your words. Sans has sat completely upright by now on the couch, leaning just a bit over the edge so he could catch your hand.

“i didn’t mean you should actually tell me, buddy. that’d be a spoiler, and hey, i actually kinda like surprises.”

His grip loosens, and his fingers fall back into the air. They find a resting spot on the arm of the couch. After a moment of hanging onto his words, not even releasing a breath before continuing, he mutters out something that sounds battered, as if he had a throat made of nails that scratched at their surface. 

“… if they’re good ones, at least.”

He won’t look at you.

His eyes seem duller than before. Hazier. Clouded over by a fog of some long forgotten thought that he had pushed back into that secluded part of himself. You know he will never tell you what he is thinking of, and maybe, a part of you is relieved to know this.

Sans knows more than he should, and you’ve done more than you should have.

The thought brings a tremor to your hands. Even the cold breeze outside that bit at your skin could only make them curl up for warmth. The chill inside is different. It freezes your stomach and makes it clench. You feel cold all over. Looking for something to drift your focus onto, you’re caught up with the sight of your hands. They’re brown, like dirt.   
Something you feel very similar to right now.

You roll your tongue over the idea of picking yourself up and leaving, abandoning the awkwardness and feigning the ignorance that comes with a lack of consequences, but that idea is soon gulped down.

Your curiosity is your greatest motivator, be it a good or bad trait in certain times. There is still much you’d like to know before it’s all over, and when those questions arise, you find your mind wandering back to the comforting image of a tired mother, and the security that comes with the presence of a stout skeleton.

Gently, you reach over and tug on the sleeve of Sans’ jacket. He finally meets your eyes, or what he can see of them through all that hat and hair that covers them, and gives out an exhausted sigh. Releasing your hold on him, you place a flat palm to your chest, rubbing in a circular motion. 

_Please._

His grin widens just a tad before he begins thumping his hand against the cushion next to him. You take off your hat, climbing onto the couch and plopping down beside him. On the other side of your body, you place the cowboy hat overtop of the frying pan. Then, eagerly, you place your rigid hands on your knees, intent on hearing what he has to say. 

“alright, well, i guess we’re due for another story, huh? so, i’m a sentry in snowdin forest, right?-“

He snickers when you pull more aggressively on his sleeve. 

_You just told that one._

“welp, coulda fooled me. you didn’t tell me what you wanted to hear. i’m not any good with vague requests.” He pauses just to give you a wink.  
“anyways, i think i can throw you a bone here and pull out a tale you might be interested in.”

There is the urge to groan, but you’re already pushing your luck.

This might be a long one.


	2. Love and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and Comfort.  
> Sounds like HOME.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow!! this was delayed so long thanks to me re-writing this a bunch, having exams in January, and then my computer kinda shorting out. i do want to finish this though since i have all the basics planned out in my mind. hopefully i caught most of the things i should have when editing this? i don't have an beta reader so my apologies. thanks for reading!

He tapped a finger against the cracked remains of a long-forgotten trap: the bars too wide, and a single fallen column tucked in-between blankets of snow. He had, of course, been in charge of maintaining it at one point, but the effort needed in order to upkeep something as fundamentally useless as the gate itself was something he wasn’t particularly willing to exert. When Papyrus complained, he simply said it added to the mysterious aesthetic, and luckily his brother reluctantly agreed.

He supposed now, however, that it wasn’t truly something he made up on the spot. It added a feeling of isolation to the environment; an abandoned unkempt area that only spoke in whispered gusts of the wind.

It made it easier to focus.  
Focusing was, after all, the only way he would be able to tell if she was there.

She wasn’t at that moment.

The stone door held a distinct lack of warmth to it. Her presence carried with it a feeling of unfiltered love and compassion, the strength of it reaching its peak before he took his leave the previous day. When she first spoke to him, it was a dull sensation, enough to be unnoticeable in the wary tone of her voice.

Leaning his back against the purple door, he slowly slid down until he slumped into the snow. His hand reached out from the confinements of his pockets, knuckles grazing against the faded stone behind him. It is then that he hears the soft pattering of her footsteps. 

The cascading waves that drift from her soul are warm—homely, even. At least, he assumed so. Without skin to feel, the debris left from magic is about the closest a skeleton can come from feeling any sort of heat.  
The heavy feeling of weariness that tugged at his eyes are grateful for the sensation.  
  
“Would he truly come back? Perhaps it was silly of me to ask for such a thing, especially when he cannot even see me…”

The gentle muttering seeped through, even with a wall between them. He didn't need to be on the look out for her presence after all, not when her own loneliness took hold of her tongue and strung out her doubts into the air. Maybe she was just used to having nobody hear her. It must be easier to talk to yourself aloud after being in isolation, at least a voice echoes back to fill the emptiness.

Taking that one quick beat of silence, he rapped his knuckles against the entrance behind him, and he could practically hear the subtle gasp in her voice, along with the way her words curled up in pitch, just like the way the lips do when they smile.

"...Who is there?"

He couldn’t have picked a better joke to say at that moment.

“yeah.”  
“Yeah, who?”  
“wow, you sure are excited to see me.”

It left her a bit flustered. She wondered aloud to him if it was that obvious of her. He told her no, it wasn’t, but it sure was now that she had admitted it.  
Luckily, her demeanor of courteousness seemed to drop then. Her only response to that was a held-back chuckle and the sentence,  
“Considering how late you stayed last night, perhaps I should not be the only one embarrassed at how much I have enjoyed the company.”

Sans spent the next few minutes clawing at the door, making drawled out sounds that might be like a dying animal. Or maybe just a tired one.  
“that backfired, huh? looks like i’m dead now. you killed me.”  
  
“I know we have not known each other for long, but you are quite bad at acting. Your skill might be dying more than you are.”  
  
“ouch. it’s too late for me, lady. i’m done for. i’ve been… owned.”  
  
The sarcastic, cutthroat tone dissipated then and there, both filling the empty atmosphere with the chimes of laughter. Sans only barely adjusted himself into a sitting position with one leg stretched out in front of him and the other pulled closer, giving him a place to rest one of his elbows.  
  
They continued on with more of the same. He was content with the rhythm they had going on. She would tell one joke, he would throw in his. Sometimes there was a topic, sometimes not, but either way, it always drifted into a chorus of cackling.  
At one point, it seemed as if they hit a snag. There was a pause during her turn to knock. It broke their usual flow; so maybe she had gotten stuck with the material. Before he could comment, her voice raised up once again.  
  
“Why did the skeleton want a friend?”

His eyes instinctively narrowed. Without conscious volition, he tapped his phalanges lightly against his knee.  
“why?”  
  
“Because she was feeling… bonely!”  
  
The suspicion melted from his face almost instantaneously. His attempt to cover up his laughter was half-assed at best, just a matter of reflex because of the unexpected turn. He leaned even further into the door. As he slid down, his mirth waned, until he was fully composed again.  
  
“…how’d you figure it out so fast, lady?”  
  
“Well… to put it simply, it was your laugh. Did you not notice that your bones rattle when you do? I realize we have not been formally introduced, but it was quite obvious. Still, I was not sure if you would be happy with this type of humour because of that reason, but I am glad to know I was wrong!”  
  
He stifled another chuckle at this. Thunderous, reverberating noises tended to shake the fragile structure of a skeleton's body. Papyrus, with his constant volume reaching the maximum it could be, was always followed by a band of clattering bones whenever he spoke. He'd almost forgotten that he could do the same.

“welp, got me there. so, what’s that about bein’ bonely?”  
  
She gave an awkward chuckle. He heard a soft pat from behind him. It seemed as though she lightly hit the door in response. The sound is a lot softer, almost as if her hand had landed on something before meeting the door.  
“Oh my, no, I was not referring to you! It was just, well… a joke I had in mind for a bit. Perhaps I myself have been feeling quite bonely.”  
  
Something was roughly shut on the other side.  
“Hopefully, you can… _fur_ give me for such a misunderstanding?”  
  
The way his teeth clicked in response sounded as close to a “tut” noise as one can get without a tongue.  
  
“ok, i see what game you’re playing at. time for a good old round of ‘guess the monster’ huh? how about throwin’ me another hint, then? snowdin’s basically fuzzy folk central, so it ain’t rounding down much.”  
  
“It is no fun if I give too much away! Think of it as a puzzle. Hopefully in your case, puzzle-solving runs in the family as well.”

* * *

You look at Sans. All he gives you is an expectant gaze. There are a few things you want to say, and he is giving you the chance to do so before he inevitably gets up and leaves. Even so, you are not sure where to start. What he has given you feels like something, and yet it feels like nothing at all. It is, however, nice to know that Toriel was capable of letting herself relax, if only for a moment. She seemed so tired when you had first met her.

You now know she likes bad jokes and playful teasing. When he had recounted the ‘bonely’ joke, it reminded you that you had already known that fact. You even considered telling him that she had written it in her diary, but that is probably not the best thing to reveal to someone else. Maybe when the time is better, you will.  
For now, you twiddle your fingers, before turning your head back up. Your balled up hands spin by your chest before your fingers flick out.

_Magic?  
Magic feeling?_

Sans smirks a bit at this. He shrugs, his body sliding off the couch more than before. It acts as a timer. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he’ll be off without a second thought.  
  
“yeah. monsters are mostly made of magic, kiddo. we respond better to things with magical properties. we ain’t physical like humans. we’re a lot more connected to the soul because of that. for humans, you’re more like a weird fleshy cage that surrounds and protects it, which is why your bodies don’t last too long but your souls do. but monsters, we don’t really have that. when we hurt, our souls do too. and when we feel something deeply, it affects us on a pretty deep level. ‘dunno if humans have something like this, but it isn’t easy hiding emotions when you’re a monster.”  
  
You briefly wonder how long it has taken Sans to master that ability then. If you asked, you don’t think he’d appreciate the question.  
  
“anyways,” he continues, “there’s something else that’s kinda… special to monsters, in a way. since we’re so attuned to our souls and have less of a barrier around us to enclose it, our most dominant emotion tends to spill out at our best of times. it’s kinda like a default. or maybe it’s less of an emotion and more of a trait. papyrus has always been hope. when he’s around people, he’s always giving them something to believe in. it helps the people in the town get by, i think. undyne is courage. alphys is passion. the lady…? well, i gotta say, seems like her trait is love.”

You make sure Sans notices your visible gasp as he says it. Your fingers begin forming heart shapes as you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t seem to understand until you finally pull out a quote that fits just the occasion.  
_So, you finally reveal your ULTIMATE FEELINGS??_

He snickers at you, which is the last thing you want. His hand reaches over and ruffles your hair. It’s already a mess, but now it’s in even more disarray than before.  
“you sure are quick to jump to conclusions, buddy. can’t say i’m surprised, since you’re always flirting with somebody here.”  
  
Your cheeks puff out a bit, and finally, you put your hands back down on your lap. You’ve only broken eye contact for just a moment, but perhaps if you hadn’t you wouldn’t merely just catch a glimpse of something blue spark upon his skull. It’s gone so fast that maybe it was merely just a trick of the eye. You can never tell with Sans, everything always feels so surreal.  
  
_What about you? Your soul thing._  
  
When you meet his gaze again, he’s almost completely off the couch. Finally, his slippers touch the floor, and he pulls himself back up to stand straight once again.  
“well, how about you tell me what you think it is?”  
  
You take a moment to think. It isn’t very long.  
_Comfort._  
  
The grin on his face falls slightly. The corners seem more rounded, less sharp than when it pierces all the way up his cheekbones. He looks so tired, but he still lets a hollow chuckle creep through the gaps in his teeth.  
  
“funny, she said the same thing.”

Sans is already heading towards the door. You want to ask more about the woman. He seems to already know so much without ever really saying anything to her. Maybe you have to piece everything together like he did, but you are never as observant as he is. Everything you needed to know might have gone flying over your head. There is one thing clear, though, she is love.

You see him stop at the door before he turns on his heels.  
“oh, by the way…”  
  
Your look turns sour just at the start of his sentence. He’s already done this gag. He just smirks at you, then adds a wink for good measure.  
  
“don’t worry, i won’t forget this time. just wanted to make something clear. y’know, i think you assume i know more than i actually do. i’ll tell you this, kid, i’m just real good at paying attention. after that, well, i’m just about as clueless as everyone else. so, if you’ve done somethin’ you don’t want me to know about, well…”  
  
The darkness in his sockets eats up the dull shining pupil within. His grin looks stiff.

“ **You better wipe that guilty look off your face.** ”

In the few seconds between his presence and the empty house, you hear the door close without Sans ever stepping through it. He’s already gone, leaving you clinging to the arm of the couch, shaking in your place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Some humour with Papyrus, and part of a forgotten backstory.


	3. Informative Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something lost that we can't remember.
> 
> But maybe that's for the best.

It takes too long for that deep pit in your stomach to settle. The only thing you want to do is sit on the couch while your eyes make a good effort to focus on the wall opposite to the door. Maybe you should have thought this through. Why would he remember?  
Perhaps, at the time, you were too preoccupied with the idea that someone understood a bigger picture. Did that make you feel less alone? If that was the truth, it was blind hope that pulled you to believe in something so asinine.

Their memories only follow through if you don’t finish what you started.

Even then, they can barely recognize you- just a faint, dismissible dream.

You still feel that empty hole inside of you. It doesn’t really matter in the end because you didn’t finish what you started before. They can’t feel it, but you still remember the instant satisfaction gained by slicing through the tougher ones.

Something underneath the skin of your arms twinges in discomfort. It feels so tense, and it squeezes you, sore and tired.

You feel a need to get up, but it’s hard. There’s no real consequence to staying here if you wanted. It makes it hard to push forward. Time feels irrelevant. You could fall asleep here, maybe, if you tried hard enough.

Of course, there’s no time to even consider it.

The slam of the door jolts you upwards, giving you just enough energy to scramble up the back cushions of the couch.

“SANS!? DID YOU FINALLY GO BACK TO WORK YET?? YOU ARE VERY LUCKY UNDYNE WAS HERE, AND YOU WILL BE VERY LUCKY WHEN SHE GETS BACK ONCE AGAIN! MAYBE.”

Your fingers curl around the plush of the sofa. Papyrus seems to notice the look in your eyes before he sees the rest of you. His sockets narrow as he gives a cursory glance at the rest of the room. A subtle bend of bone near his jaw almost makes it look like he is frowning. It’s an expression that doesn’t look entirely natural on him.

“HUMAN? WHY ARE YOU INSIDE SO VERY SUDDENLY, AND WITHOUT NOTIFICATION TOO? AND WHY DO YOU LOOK SO VERY SPOOKED?”

He pauses for a moment before a grunt of annoyance escapes him.

“WAS SANS HERE?? DID HE DO THAT THING WHERE HE MAKES HIS EYELIGHTS DISAPPEAR?? I HATE WHEN HE DOES THAT! ONE DAY, HIS EYES WILL BE STUCK LIKE THAT FOR GOOD!”

The thought dawns on you when he says it: you actually never considered that it was all some sort of trick he did frequently. It makes it less intimidating in concept, but the images seared into the back of your mind still feel just as haunting. Foresight doesn’t remedy the hollowness that peered at you.

_Does it a lot?_

“WELL… NO, NOT REALLY. IT ONLY HAPPENS WHEN HE’S VERY MAD…”

Your soul quivers just a bit.

“OR, WHEN HE USES IT AS A STUPID PARTY TRICK AT GRILLBY’S. IT’S VERY ANNOYING, AND NOT GOOD FOR HIM AT ALL TO FORCE IT! HE SHOULD JUST LEAVE BEING COOL AND TOUGH TO ME!”

It takes a firm squeeze of the couch in your hand to hold back that sigh of relief that welled up in your throat. Papyrus gives you his signature laugh as he places a hand confidently on his chest. You give him a polite applause in return, which only causes him to glow even more.

You’re glad he seems to be enjoying himself. Papyrus gives you moderate hope for the future, and also an underlying feeling that maybe Sans won’t suddenly decide to drop his laziness streak and beat you up.

Or, if he does, it would be purely for the slapstick, and won’t hurt as much emotionally.

“SO, TINY HUMAN, WHAT BRINGS YOU TO MY HOUSE WHEN I WAS OUTSIDE? WERE YOU WAITING FOR ME TO RUN OUT OF ONE-LINERS TO REPEAT IN THE EXACT SAME SPOT? BECAUSE!”

There is a pause in the conversation; it almost feels like immediately ramming into a wall. Papyrus is still smiling broadly, and the sudden absence of movement in his figure makes you realize just how stiff all his features truly are. You half-expect to see him crumble on the floor into a mess of individual bones.

“WELL!” He starts up again, still beaming at you in delight. His fingers snap beneath his gloves, which in all honesty, is very impressive.  
“I DID RUN OUT! SO, THAT ONLY LEAVES THE OPTION OF A VERY LIBERATING AND LONG-WINDED DISCUSSION!”

You tilt your head, swishing the air in your mouth from one cheek to the other absent-mindedly. He seems more willing to share, and it is not as if you never wondered about Papyrus as well. He has just been, well, more honest and out-spoken than Sans. The book of his hidden emotions seemed to open out in front of you in each line of dialogue he said, quoting a tale on loneliness and eccentricity. Sans was more like the same book, except his was filled with lots of irrelevant ones about jokes and quantum physics until eventually you gave up trying to get to the source of it all.

It’s a stretch, but you feel like you forced that metaphor hard enough for it to work.

You lift up your hands so he can see them clearly. Unlike Sans, Papyrus seems to be able to perfectly comprehend your normal speed of signing. His eyes seem to zoom over every gesture you do, and it makes talking to him feel more comfortable.

_Tell me about you?_

The way his eyes pop, shifting to glimmering sockets and flushed cheeks, is a much more endearing change of expression. He cups his hands into one another, making his way towards the couch before he takes a seat beside you. He’s so tall, his mere presence causes you to shimmy yourself further down the couch, and you bump into your pile of equipment that is carefully placed beside you. It doesn’t topple, but Papyrus seems to notice anyway and leans over to remove the items and place them on the table.

Part of you admits that you feel less safe without them at your side, even if the one you are alone with has been almost nothing but kind to you.

“S-SO, HUMAN… WHAT IS IT YOU WOULD LIKE TO KNOW FIRST ABOUT ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS?”

You wonder if he is going over millions of pre-planned speeches in his head he has prepared to give to adoring fans and newfound friends when they ask about his personal story. The way he stares at you in a blissful daze seems to lean that possibility into the “definitely so” realm.

_Are you the big brother?_

“OF COURSE! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? I KNOW SANS IS PRACTICALLY NEVER AROUND, SINCE HE IS ALWAYS SLACKING OFF, BUT HE IS VERY SMALL. I DON’T BRING IT UP A LOT. I THINK IT BOTHERS HIM?? MAYBE IT’S BECAUSE IT ADDS MORE TO HIS SNAIL-LIKE QUALITIES.”

You appreciate the image and the idea that Sans is sensitive about his height, but you still manage to shake your head in response. You can’t, however, keep that grin wiped off your face as you place a curled up hand on your chin, swinging it away and sticking out a thumb.

_Older._

“THAT’S A GOOD QUESTION, MY COOL NEW FRIEND! THE ANSWER IS, SANS, PROBABLY. I HAVE NO IDEA!”

_How?_

You can feel your face contorting in confusion as you rush the sign with your hand. Papyrus just merely sits there before he gives you a shrug.

“MY BROTHER AND I DO NOT KNOW OUR PERSONAL BIRTHDAYS. IT DOESN’T MATTER ALL TOO MUCH, MONSTERS HAVE SO MANY OF THOSE TO LIVE THROUGH ANYWAY THAT IT GETS HARD TO KEEP COUNT OF THEM ALL! REMEMBERING THE DATE IS THE ONLY EASY PART, SO IN THE GRAND SCHEME, IT IS ALSO FUNDAMENTALLY POINTLESS.

SO, SANS AND I GET TO DECIDE WHEN OUR BIRTHDAYS ARE! IT IS LIKE A PUZZLE, TRYING TO FIND THE MOST CONVIENANT DAY FOR A SUPERB PARTY ORGANIZED FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AND REQUIRES A LOT OF WARNING DAYS IN ORDER TO PREPARE A QUALITY PASTA DISH. SANS, THOUGH…”

His lanky arms cross themselves along his chest. He seems to be looking off at the TV in front of him.

“HE ALWAYS PICKS THE WORST DAYS! AND HE TELLS ME LAST MINUTE, SO I HAVE TO RUSH TO GET HIM A GIFT. ONE TIME HE TOLD ME IT WAS HIS BIRTHDAY JUST SO HE WOULDN’T HAVE TO GO TO UNDYNE’S ANNIVERSARY PARTY FOR WHEN SHE WAS PROMOTED TO THE LEADER OF THE ROYAL GUARD! AND THEN HE STILL SHOWED UP AT THE VERY END ANYWAY! HE EVEN PUT PLASTIC WRAP OVER ALL THE DOORS.”

You wonder how nobody on earth noticed him doing it, but with the time you had spent with Undyne, you figured the party was all too hectic for anyone to keep focus for too long.

“HE MADE UNDYNE’S NEIGHBOUR VERY UPSET! THEY PHASED THROUGH THE PLASTIC, SO THEY COULD NOT PARTICIPATE IN THE PRANK PROPERLY. THEY FADED OFF BECAUSE OF IT. HE'S UNBELIEVABLE SOMETIMES!”

This is the sort of quarrels they seem to get into. You would have loved to be there to hear the ensuing argument, and especially Sans’ justification for the apparent need to cover all the doors. It probably ended with Papyrus swiping the smaller skeleton up in his arms and shoving him in Undyne’s face until he gave a suitable apology.

Their whole life feels like a very bad sitcom.

Nevertheless, the mention of the royal guard intrigues you. Papyrus seems incredibly dedicated to his cause to become a member, and with his passion for whatever he puts himself into, you can only imagine what on earth would make him drop his past pursuits in order to move towards a career like that. Especially since he seems so docile.

_Did you always want to be part of the royal guard?_

It takes a bit for him to read your signs; he seems to be off in his head while he grumbles about something that you can’t quite catch. His face lifts with your hands once he finally catches sight of what you are trying to say.

“WELL, THIS MAY COME AS A SURPRISE TO YOU, SINCE I AM PERFECT ROYAL GUARD MATERIAL, BUT I INITIALLY WANTED TO PURSUE BEING AN ENGINEER! ALTHOUGH, THAT MAY NOT BE TOO SHOCKING, CONSIDERING YOU HAVE WITNESSED MY INCREDIBLE TALENT WITH CREATING THE MOST FAIR AND PRECISE PUZZLES.”

This is anything but expected, and you feel tempted to say it, but you hold yourself back. You aren’t sure Papyrus can take offence to anything that’s said to him, but you’d rather not take the chance of being rude.

“I… DON’T REMEMBER WHY I NO LONGER WANTED TO DO IT, NOW THAT I LOOK BACK?" he continues hesitantly, "BUT, FOR SOME REASON, I GET THE FEELING THAT IT WAS A VERY GOOD REASON, AND THAT CONTINUING IN THAT DIRECTION WOULD LEAD TO BAD THINGS, WHICH, AS YOU KNOW, IS BAD.”

Something tugs at the corner of your mouth. It wants to pull it downwards, but with your focus, it only manages to twitch. The way his sockets are curved at the top, and the lack of a ridge near his mouth that pulled it into his natural grin, felt almost like a solemn appearance. You’ve only seen him do it a few times.

You’re struggling between asking him to continue or letting the conversation drop altogether. Just as you’re about to make a hasty decision, Papyrus speaks up again for you.

“MY JOURNEY TO BECOME PART OF THE ROYAL GUARD BEGAN VERY SOON AFTER THAT!”

He punches his fist into the air. The sadness in his eyes is replaced with a slant of dedication as he gazes upon the red glove worn upon his hand.  
Then, his arm lowers again, and his eyes squint just a bit more. You watch as he rubs his chin, dropping himself back into deep thought.

“I CAN’T SEEM TO REMEMBER, BUT MY INNER SENSES ARE TELLING ME THAT THE REASON I STOPPED IS ALSO WHEN I REALIZED MY TRUE DESTINY, OF BEING A GUARD! IT WOULD BRING ME A LOT OF RECOGNITION, AND I COULD PROTECT PEOPLE IN TOWN, WHO ARE ALL VERY NICE TO BEGIN WITH.

I ALSO… REMEMBER FEELING LONELY, FOR SOME REASON. SHOCKING, RIGHT? THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ONCE FEELING LONESOME AND WITHOUT A SINGLE TICK ON THE CHART OF HIS FRIEND QUANTITY! I DO NOT LIE HUMAN, IT JUST GOES TO SHOW THAT DESTINY IS REAL, AND I AM FOLLOWING ON THE PATH AMAZINGLY WELL.”

Your body pushes itself forward just a bit, enough to lean in a tad closer to Papyrus when he’s rambling. You feel like you were just given a carefully carved out piece to something bigger. It causes what feels like weird sparks to jumpstart in the tips of your fingers, and they clutch onto the fabric of your pants instinctively.  
You want to ask more but by the way he looks blankly back at you, it seems he really doesn’t know much else besides that.

You suppose it’s intriguing that both brothers were interested in science-related backgrounds, or at least, you figure that’s the case. They are so different in every way, from the parallels between their sharp-angled and rounded heads to their heights, that it’s surprising to find the commonalities present in their every-day lives. It’s worth a shot, though, that maybe they share a little bit more on their off time, and that perhaps you could continue the last conversation before it was abruptly cut-off.

_The purple door, Ruins, what is it?_

“WHY DOES EVERYONE BECOME FASCINATED WITH THIS DOOR? WHAT DRAWS PEOPLE TO DOORS? IT CAN’T EVEN BE OPENED, SO YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO MAKE USE OF IT FOR A PUZZLE.”

A sigh whistles through him before he turns a bit more on the couch, trying to face you better from his current position.

“I DO NOT WISH FOR MY GOOD FRIEND TO BE INFLUENCED BY THIS ILLUSTRIOUS MYSTERY DOOR! I LET SANS GO NEAR IT, BUT… THAT IS BECAUSE HE ACTUALLY STAYS NEAR HIS POST AREA WHEN HE GOES TO IT! AND, WELL, HE SEEMS HAPPIER HAVING SOMETHING TO TELL HIS HORRIBLE JOKES TO. OF COURSE, I SHALL CONTINUE TO TRY AND KEEP HIM ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW, BUT HE SEEMS… LESS TIRED AFTERWARDS.”

You suppose that Papyrus isn’t as oblivious as he seems. The sweetness in his voice- one that also graces the features on his face- are surprisingly soft and subtle when he turns to you again. There’s no blinding glee that erupts from them, unlike most of his emotions that seem to follow a ‘go big or go home’ attitude.

_Does Sans talk about the door?_

The squint of his sockets returns to his expression, wiping off that last sign of hidden concern that welled up in his body. His fingers begin tapping on the arm of the couch.

“YOU SEEM VERY INTERESTED IN THIS DOOR FOR SOME OMINOUS REASON. IS IT IMPORTANT? IS IT ANOTHER SEXY RECTANGLE? OR…”

He extends one of his arms towards you, gripping your shoulder in a shaken hand.

“HUMAN… YOU HAVE MISUNDERSTOOD, SURELY. WHEN I SAID I WOULD HELP YOU SETTLE FOR SECOND BEST… I DID NOT MEAN… WELL, I SUPPOSE THE BROTHER OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS THE MOST OBVIOUS OPTION, BUT, WELL, SANS IS DATING HARD MODE! I DON’T THINK HE IS INTERESTED IN GIRLS.”

He pauses for a moment, and you’re almost sure for a moment that he just accidentally outed his brother to you- if that was even a thing in the underground. You’re also partially sure he may have just gendered you.

“OR BOYS.”

Then?!

“OR ANYONE AT ALL FOR THAT MATTER. UNLESS YOU HAPPEN TO BE LARGE, SOFT, WARM, AND FUZZY-”

Oddly specific, and kind of ironic in this case- “AND CONSTANTLY LAY ON HIS FLOOR.”

Ok, well, that’s not what you were going for.

“THAT REMINDS ME, HE STILL HASN'T MADE HIS BED! HIS PILLOW IS PROBABLY NO LONGER WHITE BY NOW, MAYBE A WASHED OUT DIRT COLOUR. A LIGHT DIRT.”

You’re immediately up on your feet and heading towards the door. Papyrus hastily flings himself off the couch, somehow managing to grab your items in his arms as he does so. He essentially shoves them into your face as you walk out of his house.

“OH NO! DID I HURT YOUR FEELINGS, MY FRIEND? DON’T WORRY! THERE MUST BE A MONSTER OUT THERE SOMEWHERE FOR YOU. EVEN IF IT’S NOT A SKELETON! WHICH ARE, OF COURSE, THE SUPERIOR DATING OPTIONS.”

You quickly tell him that you really don’t want to go out with his brother before he starts getting any more weird ideas. He doesn’t question it for a second, not like he did on your last date where he took every single thing you did as a sign that you were in love with him.

“WELL, TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU, MAYBE I CAN ACCOMPANY YOU TO THIS INCREDIBLY SUSPICIOUS SOUNDING DOOR, WHICH I AM SURE WILL HAVE NO HORRIBLE AND IRREVERSIBLE CONSEQUENCES AT ALL!”

Papyrus might have some kind of ability to be oblivious to things he doesn’t even know about. Still, you’re thankful for the offer, and it isn’t as if you weren’t going to head back then and try a knock at the door. Toriel had told you not to come back, but maybe there could be something else you missed, back to the furthest point you can reach?

You’re about to accept when a swirl of colours sweeps past you. The most you catch is a wall of red and turquoise. Papyrus yelps out as he’s pummeled to the ground by the grinning figure.

“NGAHH! Caught you off-guard! Now THIS is how you do SNOW WRESTLING!!”

Undyne’s hand is holding Papyrus’ skull into the snow, the rest of his body slightly folded over as he struggles to turn himself over.

“PUT SOME MORE SOUL INTO IT!! If I’m going to be freezing out here, I might as well get some good old-fashioned ROUGH-HOUSING in the mix! The snow ups your resistance! Ya gotta FIGHT THE BURN!!”

“I DON’T HAVE SKIN, THOUGH.”

“GROW SOME, THEN!!”

Papyrus puts up one hand, giving a little thumbs up in your direction.

“SORRY, HUMAN, IT LOOKS AS THOUGH I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO ACCOMPANY YOU. WORRY NOT! I SHALL BE IN YOUR HEART. AND IN YOUR PHONE, METAPHORICALLY SPEAKING.”

Undyne moves so she can sit on the skeleton’s back, clutching both of his arms in her hands and crossing them in front of her. It seems he’s completely locked now.

“OR! You could stay here and I could wrestle you. How’s that sound, punk? Wanna get even stronger?”

“UNDYNE, THEY ARE MUCH TOO FRAGILE FOR THIS KIND OF PLAY.”

“What’re you even SAYING Papyrus?! I literally just tried to kill them an hour or two ago! If they can take THAT, they can take my STRONGEST MOVE!”

“HUMAN, PLEASE LEAVE BEFORE THIS GETS WORSE.”

Undyne begins tightening her hold on Papyrus before he can object anymore. You quickly make your escape before you’re pulled into the ensuing dog pile.

It doesn’t help that you have to maneuver yourself through all the dogs running towards them, either.

It looks like you’re heading back for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Reading this doesn't seem like the best use of your time.](http://i.imgur.com/CMupMcg.png)


	4. Temporary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something you're not admitting to yourself.

 The tips of your fingers scratch across the surface of the door. It towers above- cold and lifeless, seeped in a tinge of purple that reflects upon the snow beneath. You wonder if you could ever feel that warmth described to you. It would be nice to sit curled up next to someone that could make you feel loved. Maybe it works better than a hug- where it feels warm but doesn’t numb the dull feeling in the back of your head.  
  
Or maybe it’s the same, despite the magic. 

Your fingers wriggle their way into the pockets of your pants. The phone you pull out looks like a brick in your small palm. There are a few button presses; enough to go into the saved numbers and hit the one labeled ‘Toriel’.

It rings over and over. As expected, it lets out an elongated beep.

You’re still not entirely sure if she has the phone still in the first place.

Just as the phone is stuffed back into your pockets, an aggressive rustle emerges from a bush. There’s just a fleck of gold peeking out from the leaves that curl around the branches. You stare at it, leaning forward, taking a careful step towards it-

The slight hint of colour retracts, making the bush shake slightly under the movement. You wait for the branches to slow to a still, just until only the breeze causes them to bristle in response. When you finally approach it, digging through the dense foliage for that single bright piece, you are left with nothing.  
  
Your cheek bubbles up involuntarily as a response. Within the confines of the twisting twigs that form the dome of the bush, you retrieve a thin stick that was just barely sprinkled with the slightest bit of snow. You use it to write something down on the path directly behind you. The lines of your words are jagged as they slide along the ground. It feels like any moment the stick will break in your grip, no matter how loosely you hang on. The cold air cracking at your skin does not help with the clarity of your writing either.  
  
You drop the stick when you’re done, taking a moment to bask in your handiwork.

“ i kno u r followin me”

Well, you may have gotten a bit lazy with the wording. The sheer amount of ice beneath the caked on layers of snow made it that much more difficult to imprint anything on it. Nevertheless, you doubt the correct spelling would be appreciated anyways.  
  
You trudge back towards the rickety bridge. The pillars now have a new meaning to them, you think. They were, at one point, impeccably shiny and new. The fallen one to your left stood tall in another time, another place.  
You suppose that everything, at some point, has to be abandoned.

“I don’t get it.”  
  
The voice cuts through the silence from behind you. Flowey keeps still in his spot, fixated on your figure with his beady, black eyes. His smile has fallen to a line with a slightly dropped jaw. He doesn’t seem to be all there. Something about the way he stares makes it seem like your presence was never there to begin with- as if he was looking right through at something else.  
  
“Before, I thought you wanted a sweet, happy ending. Something that would make it all the better when you finally returned to your carnage before, so you could take away the happiness they got, which we deserved, but never owned.”  
His eyes squint just a bit. The corners of his mouth turn sharp- carved into a scowl.  
  
“Now… you’re running around, trying to find out whatever you can about your… ‘friends’. As if you didn’t kill them before. As if there was anything to gain from knowing more about them. I should know, I solved everything they dealt with. There’s nothing but to go back after that. It’s meaningless.”

You could almost see a flicker in his eyes, akin to something of a shine or glint of sunlight reflected off from his pupils. A smile twitches awkwardly upwards onto his face. You feel like only just now is he finally seeing you, finally registering your appearance.  
  
“You wouldn’t know that, though. Do you think everything is about you, huh? Or do you still not see the bigger picture? Not everything is under your control. Only idiots think like that, but, well, I think we both know that you hit that category headfirst. Our world doesn’t always come with the freedom of choice.” He wheezes out a laugh.  
  
“So, once you know all you can, what will you do then? You’ll go off to find more. You’ll look at everything, no matter how weird it sounds. No matter how different it is. Why? Because people like you can never be satisfied. You could get your picture-perfect ending, but you just want more. Even after all this is done… you try and bend the world to your will, distort the people until they're no longer themselves, act out a fantasy even if reality dictates it would never work.”  
  
You are not sure what Flowey is talking about. Although, something deep inside your soul tells you that you do. Your escape is twisting with each word that drips from his mouth. For some reason, you feel yourself gulp, even though you’re sure your throat never clenched.  
  
“Hah. I bet even now, someone is looking at this. The same desperate people that are too greedy for their own good. This world is just a plaything to you, isn’t it? Wow, you might even be worse than me, now that I think about it. At least I never stooped to such a pathetic level to keep my boredom at bay.”  
  
He gives you a wink, partially letting the tip of his tongue hang out. His eyes feel as though they shift between you.  
You’re not sure how when there’s only one person, only one you.  
  
“Well, since I bothered to pop up and lecture you about all the time you’re wasting, maybe I’ll indulge that curiosity of yours. After all, I’m not here to work out your problems for you. In actuality, I’m more like… an enabler to your bad habits. Hey, no judgment here, friend! The sooner you learn to embrace that darkness inside of you, the sooner you’ll learn to survive here.”

The petals surrounding his face bounce slightly as he gives you a cheerful little jig, bouncing from one side to the other on his stem. He gives a faint hum as his eyes drift up towards the coarse ceiling way above.  
  
His gaze returns to you, a slight crinkle now adorning his bottom eyelid as his smile pushes up further on his face.  
  
“Some interesting facts about your friends… or, well, not too interesting! We wouldn’t want any spoilers. One of us here hasn’t finished everything completely yet, huh?”  
  
You feel your hand tighten into a fist, but when you look down towards it, your fingers lay limp at your side.  
  
“Well, that old hag that lives in the ruins, she hasn’t been here THAT long. Of course, by that, I mean that she hasn’t seen the surface. Seems weird, right? You’d think someone who knew so much about taking care of kids like you would have been a veteran or something! But no, she’s just a selfish woman who takes in these fallen children so she can feel like a good person for a moment.”

“Guess that’s why she let you go all by yourself in a world she feels is so dangerous, because she knows she isn’t any better!" His tone turns sing-songy, "She knows that once you leave, you’re as good as dead. She won’t tell you that, though. She won’t even let you come back. I don’t know about you, but attacking some idiot kid and then letting them go off into the same place she thought was so dangerous, and alone? Well… I guess you know now, not entirely alone.”

His line of sight slides gracefully over to the station propped up on the other side of the bridge. The one that you know is stock full of different condiments. Remembering such an insignificant thing helps take your mind off the words being spit at you like knives.  
It helps, but it doesn’t keep you from hearing the rest.

“That smiling bag of trash. Made such a worthless promise when he pretty much knows from the moment he sees you that you can’t even die! Man, he always finds some way to get off working even when he doesn’t try. He can act like he did something to his friend behind the door. I wonder how she’d feel about the fact that he left you to die on so many occasions?”  
  
Your hands move.  
  
_He helped._  
  
_Made me smile and feel safe._  
  
_He was a friend_.  
  
“And what a friend you were to him. I think that says what he really means to you.”  
  
They drop to your side again.  
Your head feels heavy; it hurts. Maybe that’s why you find yourself staring at the footprints you made from before.  
  
“Too bad I don’t know too much about that sad sack of bones, other than what his brother tells me, of course. Even when I helped everyone out with their problems, I could never really help _him._ ”  
He suppresses a snicker near the end of his sentence. The more he talks, the more you find yourself wishing for that incredulous neutral expression that greeted you in the beginning.  
  
“For how childish Papyrus is, he does at least try in this godforsaken hellhole. Really, most of the time, I’m pretty sure he’s the one taking care of his big-boned brother. He’d be better off on his own, rather than in the care of someone so damaged that he won’t even tell the truth to his own kin for fear it’d hurt his widdle feelings. Honestly, for someone who takes trust so seriously, that guy basically lies through his teeth on a daily basis.”  
  
Your legs want to buckle underneath you. They want to break into a stride and run across the fields until they reach Snowdin. They want to find friends, the ones waiting for them and forget whatever it is that lays beneath the surface.  
  
But you don’t, and it continues on.  
Is it your curiosity?  
  
Well, not yours, exactly.  
You might not have a choice in your actions after all.  
  
“Now, that fish freak-“ the shrill voice of the smirking flower breaks back into your thoughts, “she thinks that just being strong is enough to save her.”  
  
“Oh boy, it sure took A LOT of convincing to get her out of that! She hates hurting people, but that’s all she does. It’s all she’s known for. Day after day, she’d tell me how she just wanted to protect people. Be the big hero nobody else was being in the underground. But, she’s gotta keep up the façade daily. Can’t let the others see the weakness in her eyes, ‘cause if she’s faltering, the great captain of the guard, then we’re all doomed, right?” He hums.

“She whines a lot about the kids especially. They all wanna be like her. She loves it, a real sucker for enthusiasm, but those kids won’t last a minute in war, and all they do is try and join her when they’re not ready. One day… a kid could die, and it will be all her fault- just because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself and work things out the more ‘courageous’ way. Like that’s even a thing.”

Undyne has always had a softer soul. She feels very strongly for so many. You think back to all the people she’s talked to, all the people she knows about along with their troubles. What is she fighting down here? Who are the bad guys she is so adamantly after, if not for the rare human that tumbles down the mountain?

“Her beloved Alphys, ironically, also does nothing but hurt people. Perfect match- two worthless pawns that can be self-destructive together. Too bad she’s too busy holing herself up in that lab of hers to really connect with anyone. The only one she _really_ wants to connect with is the ground.”  
  
_Stop._

Your knuckles are red. You didn’t notice the way you were rubbing them with your other hand, sometimes scratching against the skin when he ended a sentence.  
Flowey’s smile turns slimmer at the sight, but it still stretches just as wide across his face. The grin seems twisted to you, emphasized only by the way his eyes seem to have sunken just a bit deeper into his head.  
  
“Oh, sorry, was that joke too off-colour for you? I didn’t realize killers had standards for that sorta thing.”  
  
You take one step back. Flowey does not inch closer, or really seem to move at all. He just continues to stare as you place both feet on the bridge.  
  
“I guess that’s all the facts that you can handle for now, huh? Now all you have to figure out is if I was telling the truth or not! Oh, wait!”  
  
His lips seem to fold up. The rough edges of the ends of his teeth emerge. It forces itself into a wide smile, jaws clenched together just to show the full set of glimmering whites in his maw. His pupils have shrunk down, burning his gaze into your forehead.

“You wouldn’t even care if it was a lie!”

A soft mist of black begins to cloud over his eyes. A white light flares up from the abyss. His jaw relaxes back into a more jagged grin- one that hides the evidence of anything ever being inside.  
  
“All you care about is if it sounds possible. That way, you can keep stuffing your face with endless fantasies. Y'know, life is meant to have mysteries, and it's usually just good manners to let people have their secrets. I don’t think it matters to you though, as long as you can have more.” Flowey flicks a leaf at you in a dismissive gesture.

  
“You're still such a naïve idiot.” 

A laugh chimes through the air before Flowey sinks beneath the ground. The snow around the area where he once grew gradually settles back into place. You keep staring until the only evidence left of his presence is the soft cracks on the ground.  
  
Your hand cradles your belly. You feel yourself hunch over just slightly. The bending doesn’t help your nausea or the way your stomach pierces your insides, but it’s the most you can do aside from sitting down.  
  
You don’t want to stay here any longer. You want to go back.  
  
Even if the pain sears further up your body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was delayed for a pretty interesting reason. usually i don't get too many ideas for stories, but well, i had a rather long one in my head for quite some time, and i decided to turn it into a fanfic. i've been playing around with the formatting so far in order to incorporate some pictures and such and figure out how to make it easy to read on both desktop and mobile. this only has 3 chapters left, but the other will have... a less predictable amount. one of my first where i won't know exactly how everything will be divided. it is another undertale one, so, hopefully it may be something you're also interested in!


	5. Blanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fragments of an unmentioned friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i ended up gettin' that sad feeling you get when you write, y'know, that the product isn't all that great? the thought that this is less of a narrative and more of separate stories thinly connected together by place helps quell it a little bit.  
> this is 10 pages long jeez

“Y-You want to… um, I-I mean, I don’t think I’m allowed to- to…”

Alphys’ words fall into a quiet hush. Her fingers twitch as they run across the back of her hand. It looks as if she’s washing them in the air, the way her palms rub across each other repeatedly. Her eyes won’t meet yours; in fact, your intense and blank stare seems to only cause her to shy away further.

“It’s not that I, uh, d-don’t trust you! Or anything like that… It’s just… um, just, that the camera records are sorta supposed to be private and under the jurisdiction of those in authority. B-Besides, they get deleted after a m-month, so, I don’t know if anything interesting is on there… “

_Don’t you check them?_

“Ah… um, I mean… I t-try to, but it’s more like a precautionary measure. S-so, like how I used it to keep an eye on you when U-Undyne told me another human had fallen through! T-that means I didn’t really, um, see you until a little bit before the… electricity maze…?”

_Hope you enjoyed the show._

Alphys gives you a pitched giggle at the comment. Your eyes notice the faint shimmer of sweat dripping from her forehead. You don’t feel entirely right pressuring Alphys to do this sort of thing for you, but the curiosity keeps you mounted in place. Right now, you don’t think you’d be able to leave the lab without just a bit of what you were looking for in the first place.

Nothing you can think of right now would be very convincing. You’re never good with conversations when you’re put on the spot like this. All you can really do while you think of something, anything, is to keep your blank stare ahead.

Alphys finds this a bit discomforting, to say the least.

“B-But! Since there are, haha, no r-reports of anything r-really bad that happened, that I would, uh, then h-have to check on the c-cameras, it sh-should be fine! T-the program is, um, o-opened right now! S-since I, I uh, have to k-keep track of you. S-so, um, k-knock yourself o-out? I’ll just be, um, i-in the bathroom. Y-Yeah! There.”

She scurries off faster than you can signal for her to wait. Turns out, you never had to say anything after all. Mindless staring tends to shake the resolve of people who are already a bit nervous about the decision.

Your body leans slightly to the side just as she goes through the door. You manage to catch a glimpse of her yellow feet from a small sliver of an opening between the floor and the entrance. This is before the bathroom goes pitch black, depriving any semblance of a figure to be made out of the darkness.

You take a glance at the computer to your left. It’s bulky, not to mention completely surrounded by clutter. This is also the first time you notice the absence of any sort of seating. There wasn’t a stool upstairs by her workbench either, so, you suppose you will have to stand.

Or not.

You feel compelled to approach the large bag of dog food tucked to the side of the desk. Your hands aren’t even big enough to encompass the rolled up top in its entirety. The strained feeling caused by your tight grasp makes your knuckles protrude ever so slightly. The distance between where you are now and the computer is small, but the weight easily surmounts the tiny bit of muscle you have to begin with. It isn’t as if you’ve been fighting.

Though, it feels odd to have a sudden lack of strength. Sometimes you almost forget that right now you've done nothing but dodge.

The bag caves in on itself when you let go, crinkling the plastic as some kibble fall back into place. You sit down on top of it, feeling slightly uncomfortable considering the unconventional seating, but you suppose it’s better than standing up the whole time. Since you’ve been given the chance, you want to take advantage by going through as many recordings as you can.

Luckily, the program seems to be fairly simple. The cameras are wireless and transmit the signal to the designated computer, which is then cataloged and labeled until the set maximum of 30 days is reached. If you wanted to keep anything, it seems like you would have to copy the recording onto a completely different device, or transfer it to another folder. It seems a bit convoluted, so you suppose whatever you find isn’t something you’ll be able to keep for yourself.

It would be neat, though. You briefly wonder if your phone has enough storage.

Nevertheless, you scroll through the history. Nothing intrigues you by the file names. They all have dates, and irritatingly enough, their labels get cut off right before it clarifies what region is being surveyed. It’s a mild inconvenience, but it’s better than nothing, you guess.

There is, however, one label that is recognizable.

‘RUINDOOR’

Your cursor clicks on the middle of the timeline player.

It looks as though the picture has shorted out for this moment in time. According to what you can see, it happens randomly

* * *

01-09-20XX-SE-FLURFOREST-RUINDOOR 12:00 AM - 11:59 PM

6:23 PM

The crackle of static introduces the first bit of words you can hear.

“–prised, is all. it ain’t an unwelcoming thing, though.” 

The tone is drawled out in slow, careful sentences. His speech is peppered lightly by a gruffness that rubs off on his words like sandpaper.

“Unfortunately, that is the extent of my knowledge regarding that… particular line of speaking. I do not imagine why someone would need a translation of such a thing, though. The cues are typically enough to garner a guess at what the speaker is attempting to say.”  
  
The voice that responds is quieter. It’s muffled by what feels like a combination of distance and barriers. In comparison to the deeper pitch of the other, it sounds so much lighter.

“harder to read when the penmanship is as bad as his. heh, luckily it’s easy enough to get through once you figure out what everything corresponds to. way easier to give her a key than to go through all the documents myself.”  
  
“I suppose though that, in this case, you yourself were also ‘the key’ to solving such a puzzle!”

You make out a huff that vaguely sounds like a chuckle.  
  
“jeez, that was bad.”  
  
“Thank you. I have taken some pointers from the best, after all.”  
  
“ouch. guess i walked right into that one.”

“Yes, you did.”  
  
There’s a beat of silence before Sans speaks up again. It’s more hushed, and the perpetual growl that underlines his voice seems almost non-existent.

“…hey, not really one to pry, but, you sure you’re okay in there?”  
  
A breeze swiftly brushes past the camera.  
Or you assume, at least. The way the audio crackles just slightly during their pause gives off a cold feeling.  
  
“Why do you ask?”  
  
“call me a bit of a numbskull here,” you note a hollow sounding knock following his words, “but, well, some of the things you’re talking about has me pretty sure you weren’t always behind that door. makes me think you’re hiding from something.”  
He pauses again.  
“…or someone.”

“My dear friend,” you can almost see that strained smile in your head as she speaks, “I thank you for your selfless thoughts, however, I am perfectly fine where I am. I realize the fact that I cannot tell you much specifically about myself may add doubts to my statement, but this is not due to reasons involving my own safety. It is just that…”  
  
She sounds so tired, the way she breathes her words and trails off her sentence with a quiet sigh. You hate the fact that an image of her face perfectly congers itself into your head: the way her eyes would crinkle as she forces a smile, the contrast between the moisture that misted over her pupils and the figure of strength she emanated to make you feel safe, that subtle waver in her voice that took over only one word for those quick enough to catch it.  
  
She’s probably more human than you.  
  
Toriel quietly speaks out the rest of her thoughts.  
“Sometimes… there are things that one has an obligation to do, or morals to uphold, and in doing so, must leave what was once precious to them.”  
  
The bush rustles. The scraping of the leaves against the camera jolts up the audio a bit. You cringe at the sound, but stick it through.

“My apologies, surely this sounds like just a vague ramble from an old woman. If I could, my friend, I would divulge in your curiosity further.”

“well, guess ya can call me granny skell, ‘cause i know exactly what you’re talking about. don’t worry about it, like i said, not one to pry, just wanted to make sure my buddy on the other side wasn’t in any danger of headin’ off to the _other side_ anytime soon.”

She snickers. The layer of sadness in her voice is hidden under the genuineness of her laughter. It’s charming, if not disheartening at the same time.  
  
“Oh dear, that is a bit morbid. Though, I am sorry you must be burdened with something so similar to my own feelings. I will not ask you to elaborate, but, please know that I am here if you ever need someone to confide in.”  
  
“same to you, lady.”

* * *

04-09-20XX-SE-FLURFOREST-RUINDOOR 12:00 AM - 11:59 PM

7:04 PM

Your next selection cuts right through the ending of a sentence, leaving you with what feels like a buffeted ‘A’ sound. The voice is lighter, floating up towards a higher pitch in tandem with the slight elation in her tone. It manages to contain itself to a proper volume, an elegant transition from her typically subdued voice into one with a bit more liveliness in it. You’re surprised by how well the differences fit together into a more human image.

“yeah, he’s a real softie. papyrus has an easy time believing in the more… optimistic views of life. can’t lie, it’s nice havin’ someone around that hasn’t let the world break them down. gives things a new perspective.”

The more relaxed tone drips into the conversation, content to stay more hushed than the voice before it. You make out the sound of fabric rubbing against the stone, and a faint scratching that is accompanied by it. Maybe he's leaning against the door?

“I am glad to hear that he still holds so much hope in his soul. Though…” she trails off, a slight strain wrapping itself around the last word that has been pushed out by a breath of air, “I am worried to think of what would become of it should he find out what… _they_ are doing.”

She growls out the pronoun as if even the thought of his name poisons her tongue. The glint of her fangs pushed back behind a soft smile arises in your memory, and yet, it all seems faded in comparison to the distorted scowl she gave during your escape. It’s not a facial expression she’s suited to, what with how soft and warm every other part of her is. The sharpness of her tone then, and now, only further highlights the point of her teeth and the piercing look of her horns.

“no one seems pretty keen on lettin’ that bit of info get through to him, not even the captain of the royal guard has the heart to say it. i’m not too big on the idea either, don’t know what he’d do if he found out. even then, he’d believe in the ability of the kingdom to change.”

 “It is unfortunate that forgiveness is undeserved in this situation.”  
  
A click of the teeth follows. It’s easier to hear than the voice before it was. Sans seems to still himself afterward.  
  
“never said anything about forgiveness, lady, though i’m sure my brother would probably be the first to turn the other cheek during the worst cases.” You hear the snow crunch. “gettin' worked up over this stuff is more trouble than it's worth, y'know? we’ve already got one barrier holdin’ us back, driving more in here might cause the whole place to crumble.”

A soft chuckle breezes through, “Well, I suppose you have a point.”

“nah, personally i think of myself as more of a _well-rounded_ guy.” 

Her laughter chimes through louder, getting rid of any trace of bitterness that still clung to her voice from before.

They’re going to start telling puns again, which is your cue to show some mercy to yourself and switch to another recording.

* * *

10-09-20XX-SE-FLURFOREST-RUINDOOR 12:00 AM - 11:59 PM

6:45 PM

“Pasta?”

You smile to yourself at the mention of the food. That’s all you need to figure out what they were talking about beforehand.

“well, i think saying that he knows how to make anything is pushin’ it — if it’s food that is anyways — can’t let him use the stove to cook it anymore, ‘cause well, undyne didn’t exactly tell him that you had to use water to cook it properly."

“Oh dear.”

The empty clinking of the pot as you dumped the pasta into it plays back in your mind. You hadn't even noticed at the time that the pot was devoid of water.  
No wonder the house burned down.

“don’t worry ‘bout it," sans says, "i make sure the destruction he creates is manageable. protecting him is my only full-time job.”  
  
Maybe that’s why the microwave is outside…?  
You’re not sure how that works.

"Did you... not tell him?" She asks, and you could have sworn that you heard the remnants of something softer layering over her voice before she spoke, not unlike a pleased sigh. Without even seeing her face, the gentleness of her smile seems so apparent to you. It seems whatever it was, however, is quickly covered up by her usual tone.   
  
He puffs out a breath of air, a bit of a laugh barely audible underneath it.  
“tried, but, guess it’s hard to trust your big brother on cooking anything when he doesn’t really cook to begin with.”  
  
“Oh?”, her pitch rises and curls into an inquiry, “Perhaps this is a sign that you should try your hand at it. It may even inspire your brother to create something more… palatable?”

“i’m guessing you have a suggestion? well, i’ll hear ya out, but i gotta say, i won’t be afraid to refuse it if i think it’s a… half-baked idea.”

Just as the image of a warm smile came to mind when Toriel spoke, you can also vividly picture Sans leaning against the door with a smug grin plastered on his skull. 

Toriel holds back a laugh. The sound comes out even more muffled than her voice usually does through the speakers. You’re sure Sans is overly proud of himself at this point. Even though you can’t help but roll your eyes at the joke, a smile pushes its way through regardless. They seem like they’re enjoying themselves, and that’s enough in your book.

“Well,” a final snicker manages to squirm her way out of her lips as she speaks, “I do happen to have a recipe that is rather enjoyable. I do not make it as much as I used to, but… I feel as though this may suit your tastes, perhaps?”

A sharp crinkling fills your ears, shortly followed by another crunch of snow. There is silence for a minute before a rumbling laugh erupts from the quiet. It shakes the atmosphere into something jollier, and instinctively you lean in towards the screen.

 “this supposed to be me?”

 You can hear him rustling as he moves, or at least, you assume that’s what he’s doing. Was the camera for this always so broken? In that moment, you think to yourself that it might be a good idea to inform Alphys that the camera near the door is malfunctioning on the visual department. Your frustration almost distracts you from Toriel’s giggle, if you could call it that. It seems like a word that doesn’t fit someone who exudes so much maturity and clout, but it does sound so much more playful than the other kinds of laughter you’ve heard from her. You start feeling a squirming sensation in your skin again. 

“Just a small way to address you for the time being. Besides, I find that the tiny drawing fits rather well with the recipe. It does call for many sweet things, after all.”

Oh god, you’re _really_ sure that you shouldn’t be listening in on this one in particular. You can feel your throat clench as you hold your breath, and silently wonder if Toriel is merely teasing him, offering a compliment, or… 

“heh, close enough i guess. looks a little more like my bro than me, though. i’m more like a snowman.” His tone is so soft, so oddly gentle compared to the usual roughness that typically pervades it.

You pause the clip. This one offers a little too much second-hand embarrassment for you to handle.

* * *

14-09-20XX-SE-FLURFOREST-RUINDOOR 12:00 AM - 11:59 PM

5:50 PM

The computer hums as it loads the next one. It sounds louder than it usually does, and the fan chugs along rather roughly in response to the extra work.

This time, there is an image. It’s fuzzy, sprinkled with tears that flash across the display, but you can still manage to make out most of it. Lining the frame of the camera appears to be bits of leaves that sprout out from around it, just barely peeking out enough to be noticeable.

Sans sits with his back to the door, leaning against it with one leg propped up. Only one of his hands strays from the pocket of his hoodie. He seems to have a habit for gesticulating his words when getting caught up in a story or a joke, or maybe just when he’s around people he’s comfortable with. 

He turns his head to the side, slightly pushing his cheekbone into the stone behind him. His knuckles clash against the door in two distinct knocks. The response is a quiet, almost nasally voice asking, "Who is there?”

“snail.”

“Snail who?”

“…snail mail isn't very efficient, this letter’s about a year late.”

She chuckles, but there are pauses in between each breath that sound calculated. It isn’t as free as she usually sounds when she enjoys herself. It feels hollow; a sound that mimics the tone of a steady, reverberating beat from a drum. Sans takes this moment to shift his position, his shoulder holding himself up as he lays against the door.

“not even the snail puns workin’, huh? those are some pretty big guns y’know, whatever’s bothering you must be pretty serious. so, what’s up?”

Only the wind answers back. You can barely make out the tips of his phalanges tapping along patiently in the snow; a visual even further stunted by the way the video lags behind the audio.

You wish you could see Toriel. You’re not sure what she’s doing, or why she’s so quiet. The camera is too far away to pick up any subtle hints of movement from beyond the door. It’s unfortunate you have trouble reading Sans as well.

“hey, lady, let me tell you something.”

He props himself back up again, sitting with his legs crossed and facing towards the front of The Ruins at a bit of an angle.

“i’ve got a pretty good friend, one of the best i’ve ever known.” he starts, “and one day, that friend told me that i could tell them whatever was on my mind if i needed it. that’s pretty standard for a friendship, isn’t it? well, i wouldn’t think so, considering i don’t even know her name.”

He pauses for a moment, looking forward at The Ruins with a gentle smile further rounding his features.

“that’s when you know you’ve got someone who has a whole lot of love in their heart, and that isn’t something to take for granted. so, i told her if she needed it, i’d be there for her too. the least i could do when she was puttin’ up with my horrible jokes all the time.”

You can’t help but smile at that.

“…I… Thank you. That is…” her voice shakes under the weight of her own thoughts. You can hear the beginnings of sentences start up and then immediately die at her lips.

“I am so sorry… for this, for…," she chokes back a sob, "for having you take the time to try and hold such a heavy and bruised heart. It is not right for me to do so. If you wish to go back, I will… I will feel better for tomorrow." 

The corners of his ever-present smile droop — chiseled down into something resembling a frown.

“lady, c'mon, please"

Sans leans his forehead against the stone door, eyes half-lidded as he waits. It’s odd to see him maintain an expression that is anything other than maniacally happy.

It doesn’t bear good memories, either.

“Will you please, please promise me something?”

And it’s a rough plead, slow and quiet amongst the other noises that surround you. Sans looks up without ever removing his head from its resting position on the stone, and with that, you watch as the promise is made. The one from the story he told you only hours ago because someone cared about you a whole lot.

And it’s a whole lot of love that no one should take for granted.

Your eyes fall down to the keyboard below. They stay there are you hear him give a sturdy ,“i promise” in response, and they don’t look up until after Toriel mutters out a thank you that is drowning in gratefulness. 

Sans reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, sliding it underneath the door.  
“hey, i finally got around to trying that recipe. thought it’d be best to give it back to you, don’t want that kind of mastery to fall into the wrong hands.” he pauses, “plus, my bro is gonna notice that my handwriting doesn’t look nearly as nice as yours, and then he’ll never stop asking me to introduce him to the mystery chef.” 

And then there is a tearful laughter. It sputters a bit at the ends, and between her pauses for breaths, you hear her ask; “Is this supposed to be me?”

“yeah, that skeleton on the bottom corner looked pretty bonely to me, thought he needed a friend.” 

With that, there is another breathless thank you while a bony palm reassuringly pats the door in rhythmic intervals.

A click that echoes from the other side of the room draws your attention away from the computer. Your eyes notice the light shining through from the bottom of the bathroom door, accompanied by the pattering of feet from beyond. You turn back to shut off the program before Alphys returns to her lab, but you halt immediately once you recognize that Sans is staring at the camera.

He gives it a wink, and then the feed goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  also i'm embarrassed to ask this but?? i don't typically end stories with very 'hard-proof' evidence of romantic reciprocation. but. i mean i have another chapter in mind where i could put that in, all things considered...  
> so, basically, what i'm asking is if you'd all be interested in a soriel smooch.


	6. Opening new doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to let go, but it's harder to stay.

In the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, there exists a thought experiment.

A man sits in an empty room, facing the barrel of a gun that measures the spin of a quantum particle. Depending on its motion—clockwise or reverse—the gun will fire. In this situation, the man is assumed healthy enough that (in this given timeframe) his fate becomes a binary outcome. Either the gun fires and the man dies, or the gun doesn’t and the man lives.

There will be one timeline where the gun never goes off. In the others that branch off after each trigger pull, the man is dead.

The theory posits that the universe splits to accommodate each possible outcome. 

Now, usually, it is not always the best decision to apply knowledge of things on the quantum level to those in the real world. The laws abided there are much different, after all.

It’s just that he can’t help but think of it as he watches the child leave the corridor, off towards the barrier room where it will be just them and Asgore.

However, Sans muses, the kid _is_ an anomaly themself.

He positioned a choice to them, but he knows that both have been taken already and that their consequences are set. There is nothing to do but wait for the inevitable as he takes his place on both sides of the split.

Nothing to do until the gun fires. 

* * *

 

“knock, knock”

He echoes the sound of his knuckles rapping against the stone door. Her presence is there, unmistakably so, but she gives no response. The magic that usually crackles so warmly in the atmosphere becomes heavy and dull. He can feel it press against his shoulders and wring his neck.

Guilt hasn’t seeped him like this in a long time.

 “hey,” he tries again, “just thought i’d let you know that the kid made it.” 

He expects the feeling to instantly lighten, and the pitch of her voice to rise in a gleeful exclamation of… _something_. Her magic crushes his expectations with a thickness that is almost suffocating. He hardly realizes he’s stepped back until he reaches out to knock again, arms out of reach of the door. 

“whoa, lady, something-?”

“Please step back, I am going to open the door.”

That shuts him up real quick. She can open the door, apparently. It leads credence to one of his best guesses as to who she is. The thought of proving that idea right tenses him slightly, and there’s just a slight buzz of excitement at the prospect of confirming it.

Strong enough to open the sealed door, draped in fur, along with just how long she's seemed to have been in there;  _There aren’t many born in the underground, but would it be too improbable to think one may have stayed behind?_

She stills behind the stone, and he waits a little longer for it to open up and reveal he was right, but it doesn’t come.

“…you, uh, don’t gotta come out if you ain’t feelin’ up to it. like i said, kid’s fine.”

 “N-no, that is… It is for the best I leave these ruins, but… it still has been so long since I have seen the outside…”

She pauses to breathe but the intake of air comes off heavier than expected.

“If it is not too much to ask… could you please describe what it is like outside? I do not even catch a glimpse when the children leave, I dare not…”

Sans taps a fingertip against the rounded edge of his jaw. Snowdin was never much of a spectacle, especially not anywhere near the ruin door. He takes a cursory glance of his surroundings, body stiff as his head only slightly tilted in each different direction.

“a lot of snow. the kind around the ruins is the packed stuff, though. not soft and fluffy like the stuff nearer to town. just kinda crunches like ice under your feet, probably not good for snowballs. there’s also a forest nearby, s’where a lot of the more winter inclined monsters live. no reason to hide from the snow when it’s pretty much a natural habitat.”

Nobody is typically around the area here, he adds to himself. It’s abandoned and quiet, almost always desolate save for the frequent visits from him and his brother.

The thought causes him to widen his smile a bit. Papyrus may as well count as a whole village, though. He casually steps closer to the door as he continues,  
“down the path that leads to this door, there’s this bridge coverin’ a small pit connecting this area to the town. my bro and i put it up. he even has some bars comin’ out of it. they’re too wide to actually prevent anyone from heading through, and one of them fell over. it’s near my sentry station. he was way too excited to help when he found out i got the job.”

The lady is softly chuckling, as far as he can tell. He leans his back against the door for good measure, trying to keep his head as close as he can to hear. It’s tense—nervous, almost—but genuine. The magic that flickers from around the door softens its presence, dimming from a suffocating atmosphere to a merely uncomfortable weight.

“Your brother is truly such a pure soul,” she mutters, "one I would be delighted to meet."

A simple “yeah” in response is all he gives her. His feet slide out further into the snow as he pushes a bit more against the door. Talking like this makes him think too much of jokes and stories. He’d be sitting down by now, telling her about something his brother did that day or listening as she talked about another recipe of hers.

“oh yeah, one other thing,” he says, brushing off the urge to relax at the foot of the door. His feet fall back into place straight beneath him, and he turns to glance at the worn down purple of The Ruins.

“there’s a friend out here waiting for you”

The door grinds against the floor, revealing a mere sliver of an opening between them. Too little to see anything, but it's progress all the same. 

“Well… I hope this friend does not have too high of expectations for the one he will meet. It is just a silly old lady, after all.” He can see the shimmer of white fur as her fingers curl more around the frame of the entrance. Her sleeves hang loose against her arms, gently waving against the new gust of wind. 

“i think your friend feels the same. after all,” he replies, “that voice of his gives off a different impression than what you’d think.”

She stops moving it a quarter of the way. A deep breath precedes her tentative first step into the snow. It’s paw-like, barren of any footwear. He’s tempted to pat himself on the back for this one, it looks as if he guessed right. That kind of material he’d get a lot out of, he thinks, in terms of teasing ammo anyway. Something about puzzle solving, or maybe saying that she was never too subtle about her hints.

He can’t seem to find the words he wants when she peaks around and fully steps out into the cold. 

In order to look her in the eyes, he’s forced to tilt his head up a bit more than he’s comfortable with. He barely comes up to her shoulders, leaving him facing—

The delta rune.

It’s a symbol associated with a prophecy, but when concerning attire, those with royal heritage often bare the mark somewhere. There’s only one other person he can recall wearing something like this: Asgore, with those outstretched wings that adorned the chest plate on his armor.

Suddenly, the last piece falls into place, and his fingers twitch inside the pockets of his jacket. Really, it should have been obvious, but the runaway queen was not exactly a frequently discussed topic. Many assumed she had ended up dying somewhere along the way.  
How she had died was up for debate, but the most popular theory was certainly not a happy one.

Her eyes, growing round at the attention, follow the path of his until they finally settle on the emblem that attracted his stares. She chokes on the words she wants to say—which was probably nothing more than a simple “oh”—and merely lets out a cough instead. With one hand slowly raising itself above the other she trailed her fingers along her cheek. It takes that bit of movement for him to look back at her face. The strands of fur along her muzzle look as if they were reflecting pink light.

“My apologies… I was not planning on avoiding such a topic forever. It was just—“

He holds out a flat palm to stop her from continuing.  
“sounds like a long story,” he starts, “let’s get you where you need to be first.”

Her hand falls down to rest on the top of her chest. The pink that peppered her face isn’t as visible as it was before, but the wisps of the colour still linger around her cheeks. Her eyes—they’re a deep red, he realizes—soften a bit; squinting just so underneath the pressure of her smile as the corners protrude upwards.  
“Thank you.” she responds.

“stoppin’ at new home then? i know a pretty good shortcut.”

He just manages to spot the subtle indent of her bottom lip as her teeth roll against it. Luckily, he averts his eyes in time enough for her to miss where he’s staring.

“If it is not too much trouble, I think I would like to take the long way there. There are some sights I wish to see…” she fiddles with her two index fingers, pushing them against each other awkwardly as she continues, “and I may appreciate a bit of company on my journey, if you would have me, my friend.”

“the name’s sans, actually.” He winks at her, and her hand basically flies towards her mouth. It makes him notice where exactly he’s found himself staring (again).

“Oh goodness, we were never introduced!” she says, almost as if she had slipped and managed to spill coffee on his shirt. His hand frees itself from the confines of his jacket pocket once more and waves at her reassuringly before she fully collects herself.  
“I am Toriel. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Sans.”

"same. now, we should probably get going."

He's half-way through a beckoning gesture as he begins to turn around when he feels something press against his hand. His body is just shy of facing directly towards the side, frozen in place now that he realizes the sensation. Frozen is a bit of an ironic way to phrase it, he muses, considering it's the warmest thing he's ever felt in a long time.

As he looks back, he finds himself staring at a strange picture—thick bones being enveloped by a massive furry paw—and blanks on what his previous course of action was. Toriel continues to hold his hand despite it, but her smile begins to dip into a confused frown.

"uh..." the sound drops rather lamely from his mouth. He wants to say something else, but nothing comes to mind.

Her physicality quiets the feel of her magic, but it still buzzes hot underneath her skin. 

This lady was gonna be the death of him.

She takes her hand back just as quickly as she had given it. It dawns on him that he has been completely limp in her paw while he's been busy staring.

"Ah, forgive me, I had thought you were..." their eyes connect again and she abandons the sentence.  
"I misread your gesture. Perhaps all these years of guiding have left me with some kind of routine mindset"

"heh, i uh," he stops himself when he notices he hasn't moved his hand at all since she'd taken it—it's still awkwardly hovering between them. He shoves it back in his jacket pocket. The feel of the fabric against his bones gets him to regain his composure back quicker.  
"nah, i understand, just surprised me there."

This time he figures it's safer to shrug his shoulder towards the path as he leads her out from the outskirts instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered how their meeting went in the neutral run. It was probably very cute, which is why this fic exists, because I basically had only 2 ideas and a bunch of headcanons I wanted to shove into a story, and their meeting after Asgore's death was one of the original 2
> 
> Also this chapter was supposed to be way longer and I had finished this part a long time ago but never finished the second half and I'm getting tired of it sitting around in my drafts so? Here you go I guess?.


End file.
